


I Won't Even Wish for Snow

by marauders_groupie



Series: A Very Merry Bellarke Christmas! [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/pseuds/marauders_groupie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy ends up in the hospital during the holidays and Clarke decides to bring Christmas to him. </p><p>Based on the following prompt: “You’re in the hospital for the holidays so I came in while you were sleeping to decorate your room I love you merry Christmas”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Even Wish for Snow

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of Christmas, I've decided to write a bunch of Christmas-themed AUs (actually, blame [Nat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alltheworldsinmyhead) \- it's her fault). This is just the first one, but I hope I'll be able to bring some holiday cheer to you guys. :) 
> 
> The title is from All I Want For Christmas Is You by Mariah Carey. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Emergency appendectomy? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Octavia confirms, sighing over the phone. “And I feel like shit. This was going to be the first Christmas Bell and I wouldn’t spend together and now he’s in the hospital.”

The image of Bellamy in a hospital bed, sullen face because he loves Christmas and Octavia is so far away, nearly breaks Clarke’s heart and she makes a decision on the spur of the moment.

No one should have to spend Christmas at the hospital. _Alone_.

“I could go,” she offers, tentatively, as her mind tries to come up with all the ways that plan is going to be the worst thing ever. For God’s sake, she has a crush on Bellamy. “No problem, yeah, it’s not like I had plans.”

That sort of thing tends to happen when you fall out with your mom. And Clarke and Abby fall out a whole lot.

“Clarke, if I wasn’t engaged to Lincoln, I’d ask you to marry me. That’s how much I love you.”

Clarke chuckles, relieved to hear Octavia won’t be blaming herself, and she promises she’d call her with info on Bellamy. Appendectomies suck, even if they aren’t particularly dangerous, and they especially sucks when you’ve got to stay in the hospital over the holidays.

So she packs a bag full of decorations – garlands, lights, baubles, a tiny tree, and takes some shiny wrapping paper and glue just in case, too. She’s an art teacher, she’s got this stuff at arm’s length.

All in all, it might not be that bad. They’d coop up in his room, she’d decorate it and maybe it wouldn’t suck _that_ much.

Bellamy is in surgery when Clarke arrives to the hospital and she settles in his room. It’s a plain hospital one, everything white, sickly green stripes, and it kind of sucks how bad he must have been feeling about spending Christmas alone.

One thing everyone knows about Bellamy is how much he loves Christmas. Santa himself probably loves Christmas less then Bellamy who’s the first one to put up decorations every year, singing carols at the top of his lungs and busting out the ugliest sweaters possible.

For someone who’s trying to come across as a snarky, sarcastic jerk, Bellamy is surprisingly fond of all things concerning affection, family time and merriment. Sure, it shouldn’t surprise Clarke seeing that it’s always Christmas that the Blakes talk about when their childhood is concerned.

Clarke pushes the chair up to the wall, hangs garlands across the windows. A nurse smiles at her when she sees her decorating the tree, offering to make some eggnog in the kitchenette.

“It’s lovely what you’re doing for your boyfriend,” the woman tells her and Clarke stops as if scorched. Boyfriend. Yeah, she doesn’t exactly see that happening even though her burgeoning crush on Bellamy is getting worse and worse with each passing day.

But he doesn’t see her that way so it’s not like it matters at all, right?

She nods politely and all but shoves her head in the bag, rummaging around for other decorations. She hangs baubles on the IV holder and lights on the overhead shelf. Also, she may or may not have actually brought the sweater Bellamy left at her place last Christmas (and she may or may not have worn it more times than she’d care to admit, admiring how it still smells like Bellamy and Christmas) and a red blanket with motifs of Santa Claus.

By the time she’s done, she’s actually pretty proud of what it all looks like. Everything is sparkling and glistening even underneath the horrible fluorescent hospital lights, and the final touch is perching a Santa hat on top of her head.

Bellamy should be happy, she figures as she takes a seat, the sweater itchy around her neck but also warm. It’s got ugly, pixelated deer all over it but Bellamy got it for her last Christmas because – “It’s a fucking travesty that you don’t own an ugly Christmas sweater. Jesus, Princess, don’t you have priorities?”

Currently, her only priority is seeing his face when he wakes up. The doctors roll him in, blissed out and laughing. Anesthesia, the best high. Supposedly. 

Bellamy’s face lights up when he finally notices her and she smiles back, tucking him in with the blanket. He sort of nuzzles into it and Clarke tries not to show how much she’s melting.  

“Clarke!”

Then he frowns, inexplicably and she takes his hand, squeezing it lightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Awesome. You should get high on anesthesia. We should all get high on anesthesia. 10/10 would recommend.”

“Did they get the appendix out?”

Bellamy blinks at her. “The what?”

“The appendix,” she pokes the covers lightly, careful not to injure him. “You know, why you’re here in the first place?”

“Oh, right. Yeah. I asked if I could take it home as a souvenir but they told me I couldn’t,” he pouts, averting his gaze in the absolute cutest way possible and that’s when he sees _it_.

Clarke watches his lips part in a small ‘o’, eyes widening in surprise. Every crease on his forehead is smoothed out as his expression melts into sheer fondness. His hand is still in hers and she squeezes it tighter.

Happy, that’s what Bellamy looks like. And her heart swells with affection for him.

“You-“he sputters, flicking his eyes towards the decorations and then towards her. “ _You_ did this?”

Clarke feels her cheeks burning up and she offers, bashfully, “Merry Christmas, Bellamy.”

With that she pecks his cheek, a nice kind of warm, and forces herself to move away when it nearly becomes obvious how non platonic the gesture was. She tries to hide it, really does, but she doesn’t have the heart anymore.

He’s just so happy and the sight of him smiling, all dimples and sunshine as he admires her work is enough to knock her down on her ass. Because it’s Christmas, because it’s Bellamy tucked under a red blanket and Christmas lights illuminating his face in shades of red, yellow and green.

“This is-“he starts, eyes roaming across the room until they finally settle on her face. “God, Clarke. Why?”

“You love Christmas, Bell. I wouldn’t let you be alone and in an undecorated room.”

She’s sure she didn’t say anything too controversial but he still pauses, brown eyes searching her face. His freckles are dancing in the bright light, a smattering of them across his cheeks and she’s so grateful that he got her into Christmas spirit for the first time five years ago.

He smiles at her again, just a little wider, just a little brighter. “I really _love_ you, Clarke.”

Her heart does a somersault in her chest and she feels downright giddy when he speaks. He’s high, obviously, but it still feels good to hear that. To imagine what it’d be like.

“Yeah, I love you too, Bellamy.”

“No, I really love you,” he assures her, suddenly serious. “Like, like-“he frowns as he searches for a comparison. “Like I love- No, I love you more than Christmas. Ye _p_.”

He’s utterly and completely ridiculous and she tells him as much, winding her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his hair. Inexplicably, he still smells like cinnamon and chocolate and she laughs into the skin of his shoulder.

They stay like that for a while, Bellamy slowly coming to his senses as she tells him about Octavia calling her. It doesn’t feel right to do anything while he’s high but if he remembers what he’d said in the morning, maybe things could be even better.

But so far the only thing they can do is take ridiculous selfies for Octavia, who responds in a matching Christmas sweater, whipped cream-moustache under her nose and Lincoln in the corner of the photo.

_Merry Christmas, nerds. Have fun!_

The first thing he says in the morning is “You’re wearing that sweater I got you.” and Clarke can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“Of course I am. Remember when you threatened we wouldn’t be friends anymore if I didn’t?”

“Well, yeah,” Bellamy shrugs, wincing as he shifts and pulls on his stitches. “But that’s just because they are _awesome_.”

Clarke pats his head affectionately even though he’s not high anymore and really, she’s got no reason to treat him like he is. But she likes pissing him off. For all of her feelings, she still likes winding him up.

“Sure, Bell.”

She gets them coffee from the machine in the hallway, Christmas turning the bustling hospital hallways deserted. Suddenly, Clarke is even surer that coming over here was a good choice. Bellamy would be devastated otherwise.

And sure enough, he’s sitting up in his bed and staring at the tree in the corner of the room with a puzzled expression. Sometime between last night and now she managed to get him into his sweater and she’s stunned again by the sheer effect Bellamy in Christmas attire has on her.

When she clears her throat, placing the cups on his nightstand (now covered in DVDs of his favorite Christmas movies and candy wrappers), he turns to her, an incredulous look on his face.

“Did I say thank you?” he asks and Clarke stares in confusion. “For doing all of this. Really, it’s – it’s amazing.”

His sigh sounds tired as he leans back on the headboard, his hand darting towards his right side immediately. Clarke finds herself just standing there, unsure of what to do. There is a sort of tension in the room, something she can’t explain because it was so light just seconds ago.

So she just sits down in the chair, waiting for him to get ready to speak. He always needs time and she’s always going to give it to him.

Suddenly, with a pinch to the bridge of his nose that knocks his glasses askew, Bellamy begins.

“Christmas is what Octavia and I had when we were kids. Our mom couldn’t afford much else but we did have _Christmas_. We’d go to church, have a dinner, eat as much cookies as we possibly could and watch movies. It’s one of the rarest things we remember as happy from when we were kids,” he flashes her a watery smile and her hand instinctively reaches for his. “I’m telling you this because that’s why I love Christmas. It’s the one day in the year when good things seem possible without a price to pay.”

“It gives you hope.”

Bellamy smiles, lacing their fingers together. His eyes flicker to where their hands are joined for just a split of second. “Yeah. Hope.”

He looks to the lights hanging over his head and the colors are reflected in his eyes when his gaze sets back on Clarke. It’s Christmas and she loves him. It only feels fair that she should say it.

“Merry Christmas, Bellamy. I love you.”

“Yeah?” he asks, cracking a smile, his eyes still searching her face. Honestly, Clarke would have thought he could read every single one of her feelings on it. But she still nods.

It’s just a split of second in which his gaze darts towards her lips and she’s not sure who moves first, but Bellamy’s lips are soft, warm and taste like chocolates she’d sneaked in for him. Because it’s Christmas and everything is soft and absolutely perfect.

Because it’s Christmas and Bellamy tells her, with a splitting grin on his face, that he loves her too. Because everyone deserves a Christmas miracle, and Clarke wouldn’t change her own for anything in the world.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what's coming up next but I hope you liked this one. If you did, please let me know - kudos and comments are my fave, I'll be eternally grateful to whoever takes time to leave them. 
> 
> Happy Christmas 2nd! Yes, the whole month is Christmas. What is December anyway? 
> 
> p.s. come find me on [tumblr](http://marauders-groupie.tumblr.com)!


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